


Why Do The White Gulls Cry?

by jcrycolr3wradc



Series: Gigolas week 2014 Whoop! [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, BET YOU DIDN'T EXPECT THAT, Character Death, M/M, Nerdanel in a Gigolas fic, So much angst, Tears will be shed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrycolr3wradc/pseuds/jcrycolr3wradc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Legolas could only ever try to arrange the best for his beloved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Do The White Gulls Cry?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I completely blame those who came up with the super sad Old!Gimli art for today. Also I blame the wine I needed to type this out. Really really un-beta'd. I wrote this at 11 at night to 1 in the morning. Any mistakes are MINE.

Legolas has been writing letters.

Gimli doesn’t know who to, but nearly every morning now, he wakes just time time to see his elf striding back through the front door of their small cottage, the smell of the sea still on him.

“Where have you been this morning?” He asks, as Legolas neatly shrugs off his tattered but warm cloak and hangs it next to the door.

“I went to the village to send a letter.” Legolas replied, voice soft in the early morning, coming over to the large bed to kiss him.

Day after day now and Gimli has to admit his mildly befuddled by this but not overly concerned. If Legolas has ever received letter back from this mysterious source, he has never been informed. Legolas seems untroubled, singing and walking slowly with Gimli down the beach and finding pretty shells to decorate the mantle of their fireplace with.

Until one day there is a sharp knock at their door.

~~~

Gimli has been sitting just outside in the warm sun, when he hears the knock. Legolas had just disappeared inside moments ago to arrange some kind of light lunch for the two of them.

He strains to hear who has come to visit them, but Gimli’s hearing is not what it once was. The dim sounds of the sea drown out all else it seems. He hopes it is Lady Galadriel.

Gimli is no fool and he knows deep in his bones that his time grows short. It is in his aching bones, his memory which seems to skips parts of time that are precious, in the eyes of Legolas who he can see are trying to be brave.

Despite that he has few regrets, or wishes. Gimli regrets that he did not sooner tell Legolas of his devotion, or that he allowed fear to guide him. Now he has nothing to fear, except what will happen when he and Legolas are parted for a final time.

He wishes he could make it easier, but knows any comfort will only fall on deaf ears. Stubborn elf still only chooses to listen when it suits him. He wishes that the Lady would grace him one more time with her presence, but last they’d heard, she has gone to Tirion with her family.

His final desire is somewhat selfish, he thinks, but it is true.

Gimli has no kin on this shore. He is a Dwarrow alone. He wishes that he could be buried as his forefathers had been. In great stone sarcophagus, telling who Gimli son of Gloin was, and what he did, and why he’d ended up on the Isle of Elves. But there are no kin who would build it for him, and he himself no longer has the strength to even walk for long distances anymore, let alone find and carve his own tomb.

Gimli has thought of asking Legolas, but when tries to broach the topic of his own demise Legolas looks so desperately afraid and despairing the he drops it. The last thing he wants is to cause his lover anymore pain.

Gimli sighs and closes his eyes again. If it is anyone important Legolas will surely come to get him. It feels as though moments later he is awoken by Legolas softly calling his name.

“Gimli? Melethron?” Legolas gently pushes a wayward lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Hmmm? Yes, what is it?” He yawns, casting a glance at their mysterious visitor.

It is a she-elf, staring out towards the sea with a loose bunch of paper held in her hand. Her long red hair is bound into a thick braid that falls down her back. She wears not skirts, but a pair of loose fitting trousers that are stained with chalk dust. Her tunic is red with fine spiraling embroidering.

When she turns to look at him Gimli noted she wore a copper circlet.

“Gimli, this is Nerdanel, daughter of Mahtan, and the greatest worker of stone in Aman.” Nerdanel gave a short bow, and greeted him.

“Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, Gimli son of Gloin. I have heard much of you.” Her voice was lower than Gimli expected and her tone serious.

“May I return the greeting fair Lady Nerdanel. I must say I was not expecting such a visitor. Otherwise I would claim the same.” At this he shoots a questioning look at Legolas.

Legolas visibly steels himself and winds his fingers through Gimli’s beard as he answers, as though to anchor him more firmly.

“She is here to carve your tomb, my love.”

~~~

Gimli finds Nerdanel to be surprisingly good company. It is nice to have someone to talk to about masonry, and metalwork. Leolas had indeed created the boat the they’d sailed in, but wood and stone are very different materials and Legolas’s passions never layed there anyway.

She is quiet most of the time, and let’s Gimli talk about Middle Earth and Erebor and his family, his friends, The Quest, the War, and Legolas. She lets him talk on and on, while she sketches away, her focus unbreakable.

Gimli talks until his voice is hoarse and then he simply asks legolas to bring him some water so he can talk some more. It is very cathartic to speak to someone who has never heard the story. He talks about his father and uncles and cousins and what they did. The great Thorin Oakenshield, who was both a hero and was never crown king because of his own mistakes. As he says this Nerdanel’s hand stills for the first time, her green eyes clouding. But with a tiny shake of her head her charcoal connects with the paper again and she’s off.

Gimli speaks of each companion, each one more dear than the last, Merry and Pippin, forever in mischief, brave Frodo, devoted Sam, Boromir the strong and Aragorn the wise. He paints the War with all the colors he can remember, the initial mistrust at the Council of Elrond, and how the Fellowship came to be. He speaks of an arrogant elven prince who turned up his delicate nose and danced on the snow. Legolas hides his laughter in his hand and smiles at Gimli. He talks about the lost glory of Moria and Gandalf’s sacrifice. The way the Fellowship found solace in the Golden Wood and how Lady Galadriel captured his devotion, as the stars do to elves, beautiful and untouchable. He even talks about the Lady’s gift. Nerdanel’s hand stops again and she stares with open disbelief. Gimli take no notice and instead speaks of the young elven prince who extended his hand in friendship and what hours they spent in that enchanted place.

On and on and on Gimli talks, about their companions and the triumph over the Darkness of Mordor. Of his love to that young elven prince that led him to Valinor. He talks until the sky is completely dark and the stars have come out. By the end of it Nerdanel does not have a spare inch on her paper and Gimli’s voice is wrecked and his eyes are red.

“You have led a truly incredible life, meldo.” She says quietly, before standing and taking Legolas aside. As the two elves talk, Gimli looks eastward and feels the dull ache for a place he will never see again.

“I will send it when it is complete. I will accept no payment.” She says will Legolas asks. “It is my honor to craft for a being of bravery and honesty.” She leaves with a short bow.

Legolas and Gimli sit on the sand of a while more and stare out at the sea.

~~~

It is a draft morning when there is another knock at the door.

Legolas opens it to find an a large horse drawn cart with a huge package in the back.

It take Legolas and the two messengers an hour to maneuver around to the back of the cottage, where the grass of a nearby meadow met the beach and set it down gently. With a golden coin each Legolas waved them away with his enteral thanks.

GImli was already walking down the stone steps as quickly as his arthritic bones could go as Legolas pried open the wooden planks and packing hay that kept the cargo safe.

As the entire thing came apart the true majesty of Lady Nerdanel’s work came to their eyes.

All around the sides were depicted scenes of Gimli’s life, Erebor, The Fellowship, as Lord of the Glittering Caves, and his journey to Aman. His marriage to Legolas. The creation of the Dwarves. All around the minute figure seemed so real that almost moved as you moved your head. The top of the sarcophagus was Gimli as he had been at his full strength. His hair, though cast in marble flowed out, braided exquisitely, with beads that depicted the cirth symbols for strength, loyalty, honor, love and kindness. His armour was rendered so carefully that when he brushed a finger across it he expected the feel of mail and leather. His eyes were open and so deep with wisdom, he did not think them his own.

Legolas could not bear the sight of it.

As Gimli studied his own coffin Legolas turned his head to try and stop the tears that threatened his eyes.

This made it all so final.

There was nothing to be done. Gimli was not Hurin to be rewarded with the life of the elves, and he was not Luthien to be allowed where his beloved would go.

There was nothing he could do, no one he could ask for pardon, nothing he could do now, but wait.

~~~

“I love you.” Gimli say that night. Legolas is completely wrapped around him, as close as they can be. “I love you as the mountain loves the sky, as the flowers love the sun and as the sea love the shore. You and I will never be parted.” Gimli promises as he closes his eyes and breathes deep breath of sleep.

Legolas is frozen, unable to sleep until much much later, but as he fades he whispers, “I love you too. I love you as trees love the earth, and as the river loves it’s banks. I love you and I will never forget you, no matter how much time comes between us.”

He kisses Gimli gently and slips into the open eyed sleep of elves.

Time and tides turn on outside.

~~~

Morning breaks slowly over aman. Nerdanel has been carving throughout the night. She wipes her hands free of dust as she surveys her newest sculpture. The noble face of her husband looks back at her. She sighs and covers it. It is time for rest.

~~~

Legolas wakes slowly, blinking in the morning light that filters through the windows. It promises to be a beautiful day.

Gimli is laying on his back, not snoring for once. Legolas smiles and places a gentle kiss on his lips. And notices something is wrong immediately.

Gimli is too still. Too cold. His face is perfectly at peace and immobile.

Legolas does not even realise he is screaming until arms start pulling him away and he realises he cannot hear them over the screams. Screams that sound like someone who is being ripped apart and burned alive. Like someone who is being tortured in the most painful way possible but not allowed to die, if even to end their own torment. When the arms come for him he fights tooth and nail, still clinging to what was once his lover and best friend,

“No! No! No! No Please, please pleasepleasepleaseNo! Gimli!” He cries like a babe, insensible and inconsolable, for it’s mother, too weak and blind with tears to resist as he is pulled away. His last blurry vision is that of Elrond, who is gently speaking and forcing a tea down his throat. He casts one last look at his lover, partially obscured by a tale pale shadow.

~~~

The funeral consists of himself, Lady Galadriel, and Lord Elrond, who stays more out of obligation than anything.

They had arrived that morning, since the Lady had been sent a vision a week ago.

Legolas doesn’t have enough energy to have a reaction.

He knows he should speak as the lid is shut on Gimli, eyes closed and dressed in his very best armour. His axes are crossed over his chest, guarding him even in death.

He knows he should weep but he hasn’t since that morning. Legolas feels empty of everything, including grief.

He knows he should do anything other than stand there as the Galadriel speaks in khuzdul, and then commemorates Gimli on his bravery and love. But he can’t.

Galadriel embraces him and whispers something in his ear when they leave afterwards. He barely notices, instead looking out toward the east, feeling the ache of a person he will never see again.

-Fin         

               


End file.
